The Spurious Plum

State of the Spurious Address + Surprise! Chicago Is Better Than Pittsburgh

First off, a heads up.

I've been cheating and posting lots of pictures, but this shit isn't a photo blog. Here's why I've been such a lame-ass:

A.) Lots of traveling. In the past month or so, Mateo and I have been to LA , DC, and Chicago. This has impinged upon time I'd generally use skulking around on your blogs and (gasp!) actually posting to my OWN blog. My upcoming schedule shouldn't be as crazy. I hope not. God, I hope not.

B.) Work has been a sandy little butthole. Two huge crappy projects have seriously cut into my regular work schedule (wherein I work for an hour, and loaf for another seven). Commenting, responding to your comments and generally being a nice bloggy person hasn't happened like it should. I'm a BITCH. This should stop as of tomorrow. This better stop as of tomorrow, or I'll start snapping people's bras at work.

C.) Our impending move. Sorry folks, this'll only get worse in coming months. Mateo and I are outta here on September 1st, at the very latest. WOOHOO! Now if I only didn't have to organize the move...

Rest assured, I love you all desperately and wish we could all mack-out without Mateo getting all jealous and wanting to tape it.

That said, onto the bloggy writey thingy.
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So. Chicago!

Wow, was it hot. Hottest day in 10 years hot. Hot enough to set burps alight as they exit your mouth. Hot enough to turn pigeons into roasted squab, which was subsequently sold at 'Taste of Chicago' for exorbitant sums of money (I have no cojones, so I passed). Hot enough that Mateo and I decided to walk for FIVE MILES next to the lake because we were morons. Lots of sweat and whining was involved on my part. Lots of patience and achey feet in dress shoes were involved on the part of Mateo. Good times.

Though I wish Mateo had been able to get away from the conference more, we still had an awesome time. We went to the Art Institute and pulled a Ferris Beuller on the Seurat . I went to Wicker Park and Bucktown (that what that 'buck,buck,buck' business was all about) . I visited the Shedd Aquarium and shat my wannabe-marine-biologist pants. There were beluga whales, and sea otters, and a sea lion, and pacific white sided dolphins, and penguins, and...can I live there? I'll be good. I swear.

Oh, and the food! We saw our old friend Miss Maria and had some tasty chilequiles. We ate Columbian roasted chicken and Costa Rican plantains. The streets were filled with Mexican food, and I had a conversation in SPANISH with a street vendor. My Spanish sucked, but SPANISH. Hot damn, that felt good.

We got drunk with librarians (who are without fail the best drunks ever), went to awesome indy record stores, and rode the janky subway. It was completely unlike Pittsburgh, yet I felt more at home in Chicago than I ever have in the 'Burgh. Sigh.

Hopefully we can move back to LA and get our big city livin' started back up soon (not that NYC doesn't have its charms, Torrie) .
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Random Fruit Fact: The Almond

Is it a fruit? I'm not sure if it's even a fruit...

"After the petals drop and the trees have leafed out, the first signs of fuzzy gray-green "fruit" appear as the result of successful pollination. The fruit's hull continues to harden and mature, and in July, begins to split open."

I'll be. I guess it is. Learn more about the almonds nutty fruitiness, here.

Posted by Spurious Nurse at 6/30/2005 09:10:00 PM 9 comments

There Are Many Nice Things About Chicago (buck,buck,buck!)

Posted by Spurious Nurse at 6/29/2005 06:49:00 PM 20 comments

Chicago... zzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzz...........

Went to Chicago.
Pictures and info coming soon.
Got home very late, and had to go to crap-ass work very early.
Totally wiped out.
Pray for me.

zzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzz................

Posted by Spurious Nurse at 6/28/2005 08:42:00 AM 14 comments

Dental Retribution

Remember when I posted the 100 things? You know, a few days ago? Remember how #100 on my list was “I can't shake the feeling that flossing is for suckers”? Well, the Floss Gods heard me talking trash, and gave me a fatty cosmic bitch slap for my trouble.

On Monday, immediately after I posted my list of 100 things, I heard a sound.

“Hey.” It was coming from the back of my mouth.

“God? Is that you?” The last time I spoke with Mr. Back Of My Mouth was after my wisdom teeth were extracted (it wasn’t a fulfilling conversation, just a lot of cussing and screaming. He was PISSED), so I was a little rusty.

“Hey.” Mr. BOMM tried again.

“Hey what? Did I scratch your tender gumminess on something? You know, sometimes ‘hey’ just doesn’t cut it, Buster. You’ll have to be a little more specific.”

“Um, hey.”

“Screw you, buddy.”

After successfully ignoring my own mouth, I went about my business until yesterday afternoon. Mr. BOMM decided to take his slimy campaign for my attention to the next level.

“Hey!!!!! ”

“What?!?! What do you want? Did I eat popcorn? Noooooooooo, I never eat popcorn, because if I do, your pink ass drives me nuts hiding corn hulls in my molars for weeks. If you’re annoyed, just tell me what the problem is. TELL ME!”

“Hey!!!!!”

“Ohgoddammit, fuck off.”

The real trouble started last night, as I was brushing my teeth. As I brushed in the general area of Mr. BOMM’s bottom left side, he made his true intentions known.

“HEY BITCH! CUT THAT SHIT OUT! OWOWOWOWOWOWOW!!!” Mr. Bomm was officially pissed.

“Finally, asshole. Now just stop screaming…”

“HEY! STOP BRUSHING ME OR I SWEAR, I’LL BLEED ALL OVER THIS CRAPPY BRUSH OF YOURS! OWOWOWOWOWOWOW!!!”

“Fine, just calm down and…”

“DID I STUTTER?!?!?!? DIDN’T YOUR MAMA TEACH YOU HOW TO LISTEN????? I SAID CUT THAT SHIT OUT! OWOWOWOWOW!!!”

“OK! OK! We’ll call the drop-in dental clinic first thing tomorrow, OK?”

“Hey.”

“Can it, smartass. Here’s some Advil. Now shut up.”

I’ll skip the part where Mr. BOMM used his plaque-y wiles to wake me at 4AM and ensure my continued wakefulness until the dental clinic opened. And I’ll spare you the, “It’s-not-popcorn-I-swear-I-didn’t-eat-any-what-do-you-mean-it’s-an-abcess" story. All you need to know is that if I had been a flossing queen, Mr. BOMM and I may never have been reacquainted. And I would've liked that just fine.

Just remember, if you decide to publicly mock the Floss Gods, EXPECT some sort of squishy retribution.
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Random Fruit Fact: The Raveena Eggplant

“Don't wait for this Eggplant to turn purple -- it stays green all season, with very tender skin and a delicious mild flavor. Harvest it as small as 3 inches for ultra-tender fruit”

I’m still not sure if eggplants are fruits or veggies. But at least they’re tender, and tender is sounding pretty good to Mr. BOMM and I, right now…Learn more about the raveena eggplant, here.

Posted by Spurious Nurse at 6/22/2005 03:58:00 PM 17 comments

Memo to the Fashion Impaired Public - Rectangle Butt Jeans

Unhappily, I've succumbed to a "fashion don’t"(meaning today's fashion cattiness is directed towards myself). But before you start throwing pointy rocks and screaming “HYPOCRITE!”, please be aware that I didn’t have a choice.

First, a little history: I wear jeans almost every day. Mateo routinely makes fun of me at the laundromat because 90% of our laundry is denim, and belongs to me. It’s worth getting teased, because having 7 pairs of jeans means I only have to do laundry once a week, which I lovelovelove. So when my favorite pair started getting holey, I knew had to fill the gap in my rotation, or face extra laundry. Given the choice, I bet you'd pick shopping too.

At the outset of my jean quest I started noticing a heinous trend. All the jeans were low rise. ALL. Well, all the ones I’d wear in public (since tapered legs, double pleats and bra-level waistlines don't do it for me). While I was disappointed in the overwhelmingly low-waisted selection, I figured if I searched long enough, I'd find jeans that wouldn't expose my pubes everytime I sneezed.

400 stores later and with my denim ethics in tatters, I purchased the ultimate sin…low rise jeans. The ones with 1 centimeter of zipper and that show off your undies. The ones that squeeze your butt into the shape of a rectangle. Oh, the shame.

**RECTANGLE BUTT TANGENT**
"Rectangle butt" is a term Mateo and I use to describe the strange shape a woman's ass takes in low-rise jeans (yes, we DO wile away the days staring at asses together). Low rise jeans were specifically created to make women with NO ass look like they have SOME ass. Butts get squeezed into an odd rectangular shape, and any extra chub gets pushed above the ‘waist’ of the jeans as overflow, creating an illusion of a butt . The downside is that if, like me, you’re already in possession of a big ass, these jeans are a booty magnifying glass.

Since Pittsburgh’s veritable cornucopia of greasy food ensures that there’s plenty of big ass to go around (again, myself included), the rectangle butt watching opportunities here are OUTSTANDING.
**END OF RECTANGLE BUTT TANGENT**

I’m not alone in my low-waisted pergatory, because every chick under 40 in Pittsburgh is wearingthem too (boy, do I wish I had pictures). Pittsburgh generally leaves you with two fashion choices, both of which suck:

- The path of big hair, stretch pants and control-top hose. Or all three.
- The path which leads directly into the more whore-y side of Christina Aguilera’s closet.

Where are the normal jeans? Sure, these are cute, but that ‘my ass is hanging out’ feeling won’t go away. If I stand still and don’t breathe, I’m golden. But if I move or (god forbid) sit down, there’s a sudden, illicit breeziness in places that are VERY MUCH UNUSED TO BEING BREEZED.

Suggestions? My only caveat is that I must try them on. I’m not an internet jean queen…
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Random Fruit Fact: The Tamarillo

I love to read stuff like this:

“Nucleotide sequence of the tamarillo mosaic virus coat protein gene”

Get it? Tamarillo ‘genes’? Ah, nothing beats a pun…except some jeans that fucking fit. Read more about Tamarillo genetics (it’s boring, don’t go), here.

Posted by Spurious Nurse at 6/21/2005 06:47:00 PM 23 comments

100 Things You Don't Have To Read

Posted by Spurious Nurse at 6/20/2005 07:14:00 PM 34 comments

Where Are You From

Thank you Susie, for finding this.

I am from tiny, stork-shaped sewing scissors, from Diet Coke and Goldfish crackers.

I am from Grandma’s kitchen, warm, yellow with sunshine, and filled with special cinnamon sugar toast smells "made special with love" just for me.

I am from the hydrangeas in a bed of rusty nails, and the African violets my Mama kept happily steamed in our shower, next to the shampoo.

I am from driving to Oak Glen/Snowline for fresh pressed cider every autumn and big Dutch feet. From cousin Fish and from my grandpas: Marc Jack and William Theodore. Grandpa’s who loved me and my family with such strength and joy that my throat catches just typing their names.

I am from an impenetrable labyrinth of inside jokes and cast-off animal hoarding.

From “Up the wild wazoo” and “I’ve got a bone to pick with you”.

I am from loving God and hating church. From a family whose ‘church’ took their entire material lives away with a smile, and asked for more, more, more.

I'm from Long Beach, CA, and a muddled Dutch genetic makeup, from homemade ‘Green Death’ and ‘Nectar of the Gods’.

From the night Papa Spurious took us to a Dodger game when we were dateless for the junior high school dance. Uncomplainingly hanging out with seven 13 year-old girls as we sang songs, danced in the aisles and ate a metric ton of stadium food (which he paid for). When I asked him about it years later he said it was totally worth it just to see our seven smiles. From great-uncle Fred and great-aunt Myrtle’s Burger King commercial escapades. From the thousand painful surgeries my sweetest un-complaining cousin has had to endure.

I am from 6 feet of classical music records in the den and from a garage filled with family detritus, ancient photos and cat hair covered furniture that, if damaged, would completely shatter my mother’s heart.

Posted by Spurious Nurse at 6/17/2005 02:03:00 PM 17 comments

SPD: Draw It Your DAMN Self - or - Fried Like a Georgia Chicken

Did I mention that I got horribly, disfiguringly, vanity-scarringly sunburned in Washington, DC? I'm ususally relatively vigilant about sunscreen since I burst into flames when hit with direct sunlight, and I haven't had a 'cook eggs on my skin' sunburn for years and years. But this time, I forgot.

And somewhere around the 3:00 on Sunday, as Mateo and I walked through the gardens next to Congress, my dearest love turned to me and said the words any pasty-faced honkey bitch fears:

"Wow, honey. Looks like you got some color."

Fuck. In a flash I foresaw what will now be next month of my life. Filled with the requisite cooked-crustacean redness, itchiness and peeling that accompany's any of my jaunts in the sun which exceed 15 nanoseconds.

What I didn't know, was that my purse (my ass even carrying a purse was weird, but that's a separate post) had pulled my stupid v-neck shirt off-center. Meaning I now have a crimson, v-shaped, asymmetrical bib of future skin cancer stretched across my chest.

Nose, forehead and cheeks got a red too, but not AS red. Red enough for idiots to say, 'WOW, did you get burnt?' No, idiot. I've always looked like someone threw a wet Ferrari on my chest. So here's my self drawn SPD entry:



The red parts are the cooked ones.

P.S. And look. I'm thinking about fruit, just for you folks.
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Random Fruit Fact: The Red Naval Orange

"attractive due to its near crimson flesh..."

See? Crimson flesh = attractive. Sure. Oh, my aching ego... Learn more about the ned naval orange, here.

Posted by Spurious Nurse at 6/16/2005 09:25:00 PM 13 comments

IT Dude Story - Part Deux

So I need a cable internet connection in the conference room at work. There’s a little socket already installed that’s pretty and numbered for my convenience, just not active. When I call IT Dude to activate the completely free internet service (I prefer calling him, because IT Dude is scary and wants to smooch all the women in my office), he tells me I have to fill out a 566 page form and offer my first born on an altar made of donkey eyes. And he tells me my department must PAY for the privilege of doing so.

Well, none of that shit’s happening.

This seems complely ridiculous (and I'm coming down off my diet coke caffeine high, so I'm a little peevish), so I ask if I can turn it on, you know, MYSELF.

“Ma’am, here’s how to turn on your service.” He sounds like he thinks I’m an idiot.

“You mean, how to turn on the FREE service.” I interrupt.

“Uh, yeah. You’ll have to fill out an RFS form (the aforementioned 566 page monstrosity) and give us your department account number…”

“But everything’s already installed in the wall, and the service is freeeeeeeeeeeeeeeee.”

“We need a technician to open the electrical closet on your floor and turn it on, Ma’am.”

I fucking hate it when people call me "Ma’am". Really. Would you call a 5 year old girl “Ma’am”? Because that’s what I sound like on the phone. Actually I sound like a helium-huffing squirrel when I talk on the phone, but let’s not split hairs.

“You want me to PAY you to flip a switch? You want me to PAY for your FINGER?” I continued, feeling all indignant.

“Ma’am…” He sounded exasperated.

“I have a finger! In fact, I have 8! Plus opposable thumbs! I’m an evolutionary marvel!”

“Ma’am the expense shouldn’t be too excessive, if you’d just fill out…”

“No. I’m not going to spend 6 weeks filling out your big-ass request form for you to flip a blasted switch. Switch flipping is not the sole domain of IT Dudes! People have been flipping switches since at least 1950. It’s my right as an American citizen to flip that switch!”

“Uh, Ma’am…”

“Stop calling me "Ma’am"! Do you think I’m INCAPABLE of flipping the switch? Is that it? I’m just a girl called “Ma’am” who can’t flip switches all alone, and you want to help my poor, switch-flipping-impaired ass? Do you think we’re gonna cuddle afterwards? Because buddy, that’s not what I’m about!”

“Ma’am, do you want the service or not?”

“Um, yeah.”

“Cause it’s going to cost, like, $2.00.”

“Oh. Do I still have to fill out the form?”

“Just check one box on the last page.”

“And that’s it?”

“That’s it.”

“OK. Thanks! Sorry, I'm a little jumpy today.”

“Reeeeally?”

“Shut up, IT Dude.”
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Random Fruit Fact: The Jujube Fruit

I’m fully serious, there’s a real jujube fruit.

“A magic fruit for emotion controlling and more.”

Guess what I’m picking up on the way home. Learn more about the jujube’s calming nature, here.

Posted by Spurious Nurse at 6/15/2005 03:55:00 PM 18 comments

Memo To The Fashion Impaired Public - Old Running Dudes

If you insist on running shirtless in the middle of my lunch hour, with super-short running shorts, a fanny pack and your 55 year-old sweaty belly flapping in the 90 degree humidity, I will feel completely justified in making snide comments to my husband about your hysterical display of copious ass-crack hair.

Thank you.

Posted by Spurious Nurse at 6/14/2005 01:45:00 PM 9 comments

D-Cizzle

Hooray! We had fun in DC. Thanks for your suggestions. We did a ton of stuff, and I'm not sure how to describe it all. In that spirit, I've decided to rip off Overheard in New York and go collage on your ass:


@ Toulouse Lautrec Exhibition in the National Gallery
Fake Chi-Chi Art Hag: “Make sure you see the prostitutes, they’re darling.”





@ Native American Museum
Touristy Lady: "I thought we’d find turquoise jewelry that was affordable, but it’s not. It’s not. "





@ The Entrance to the Vietnam War Memorial
4 Year Old Child: “Please Daddy, no more walk!”
Middle American Male, Style #106: “Well, do you have enough money for a cab?”





Over The Phone
Papa Spurious: “You should go to Colonial Williamsburg. It’s educational. Educational's good, right?”





@ Adams Morgan
20 People in Pirate Hats Throwing Water Ballons: “One, two, three!!!! All Right!”





@ The Arlington IHOP
Blue Haired Lady Armpit Hair: “Every day I open up that door, and it smells like a damn dungeon...”





@ DC Capitol Pride Festival
Vendor: “Cum towels! C’mon, guys... Everyone needs a cum towel.”





@ Arlington Chipotle
Cashier to Spurious: “Ma’am. Ma'am. There’s something on your butt. ON YOUR BUTT.”





@ The Smithsonian Castle
Security Guard: “People think I wear a bulletproof vest everyday, but I don’t. That’s just not me.”





@ The Hirshhorn Gallery
Cleaning Lady: “It’s so hot! I think it may even be hotter than yesterday!”
Spurious: “Nothing could be hotter than yesterday.”
Cleaning Lady: “ Ha! You may be right! Can your take your feet off my couch?”





@ DC Dyke Parade in Dupont Circle.
Teenage Drunk Girl: “I don’t care. It’s hot, and there’s lesbians everyplace. Just what the hell am I supposed to think?”





@ The Metro After We Threw Out Our Tickets
Large Woman Conductor W/ Chest Hair: “What are you two doing?”
Mateo and Plum: “We’re from out of town...”
Large Woman Conductor W/ Chest Hair: “Well, I can see that.”





Missed you guys!
P.S. I'm going to Chicago in 2 weeks...any more suggestions?
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Random Fruit Fact: The Ornamental Crabapple

I was a total crabapple this weekend, but Mateo focused on the ornamental part...

"the most beautiful, adaptable, and versatile group of ornamental trees known to horticulture."

Thank you, International Ornamental Crabapple Society for that truly unbiased viewpoint. Learn more about the ornamental crabapple's legion of doom, here.

Posted by Spurious Nurse at 6/13/2005 10:13:00 PM 15 comments

Stuff Portrait Friday - More+Less=Just Right

Want more: Horchata

Specifically, horchata from a 'Bang' machine. I looked and looked, but couldn't find a picture of one, and I want a glass of that crap so badly I'm gonna cry. Holy shitless Jesus it's good. This is a picture of me drinking a cool glass with Papa Spurious on my last visit home.

Want less: Clouds

It rains all the damn time in Pittsburgh. When it's not rainy, it's snowy/sleety/icy/generally cloudy. An unadulterated sunny day, even in the summertime, is a rarity. Yellow teeth suck too, but thats my own damn fault for not buying some of those scary bleachy things. The 16 gallons of Diet Coke that cross my lips every hour probably don't help much either.

Want to stay just as it is: Carniceria Nueva Vallarta

I love you man.... don't ever change.

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As an aside, Mateo and I are going to Washington, DC for the weekend to watch a limited release of Howls Moving Castle .

Yeah. We ARE total nerds.

DC suggestions anyone?
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Random Fruit Fact: The Cornelian Cherry

"In late summer or early fall, the large red fruits are an enticing sight. They are also delicious, reminiscent of tart cherries."

I was going to connect cherries to George Washington, and George Washington to Washington, DC, but FUCK it's hot today and I can't be bothered. So just read all about the cornelian cherry, here. I'm off to drink something with an ice cube in it.

Posted by Spurious Nurse at 6/10/2005 05:26:00 PM 10 comments

Self Portrait Day - Where You Blog At? + Thug Huggin'

Some of you are having a hard time. I wishwishwish I had a magic wand that would make it better! Ya'll need a hug.

If you're interested in the blogspace part, behold! The Mateo and Spurious Computer ExtravaDanza* ! Witness our tencencies towards messy desks, snakey cords and weird ass pictures!

But the hugs are the most important part.

*All extravaganza's in Casa de Spurious are now referred to as 'extravadanzas' , bcause of Tony Danza's dirty, talk-show-having ass. Sorry.
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Random Fruit Fact: The Sorbus

"The fruit of the Sorbus is only edible after being "bletted", in other words, after falling to ground and fermenting.The flesh then has a custard-like consistency and people describe it alternately as tasting like both vanilla and chocolate pudding."

Learn more about the sorbus, here. Or you could just take the hug. It's easier (and unfermented).

Posted by Spurious Nurse at 6/09/2005 07:05:00 PM 19 comments

Weird Peony Story

As an explaination to Susie and Airea, I'd like to tell the crazy peony story.

My first winter in Pittsburgh was marked by wicked homesickness. It was getting cold and I missed my family. Mateo and I were totally broke, but I took our last 40 dollars to an old, rambly nursery to buy a peony. Peony's don’t grow in CA and Mama Spurious adores them. I figured it could remind me of my family, and warmer times to come.

Unfortunately, I had this revelation at the very end of fall, when things get monochromatically brown in Pennsylvania. So as I entered the nursery, I was disappointed to find that almost everything had died back. Everything was Hershey bar brown. Brown like the 'Rockford Files'. Like Better Homes and Gardens for Morticia Adams.

I wanted to ask questions (I wanted a peony but I didn't even know what one looked like) , but no one seemed to be around. I bent to scratch couple of ankle-rubbing kittens when I heard a noise behind me, and turned to find a tiny, tiny person. An elderly woman, bent almost double by arthritis and covered in what looked like 12 coats, stared at me with evident crabbiness.

“What you want?” A thick eastern european accent got in the way of her question.

“Uh, I was just looking around and, uh…” When I'm nervous I get real articulate.

“You look for plant?”

“Yes, my mom really likes peonies, and, uh...”

“Peony.” she said, nodding her head, and stalked off.

I stood there confused.

“You come!” she shouted over her shoulder without turning around.

I followed her up the path, kitties swirling around my ankles, and she eventually stopped in front of a series of pots containing dead sticks and crumbly leaves. Their stalks were bent and weathered.

“Peonies.” She said, simply.

“These?” I pointed at the potted twigs.

She looked at me like I was a moron.

“Are they supposed to look...um. They look…dead.”

“Winter!” She was annoyed. “They grow in spring.”

“I’ve never grown a…how I do to make it grow?”

“You put in ground. You leave alone.”

“OK. Is there any thing else I need to know? I don’t have to use fertilizer? Or dig to a certain…”

“WHAT'S WRONG WITH YOU?!?!?!” She completely freaked out on me. “YOUR MAMA NO TEACH YOU HOW TO LISTEN? YOU PUT IN GROUND. YOU LEAVE ALONE.”

“Ok.” I said in the smallest voice possible.

Her face pushed up into a smile. She walked away, and I grabbed the first pot I saw. I didn’t see the color of the peony, whether it was double or single, alive or dead. She had freaked me into buying a brown plant. I bought my dead peony for $9. I put in ground, and left alone.

And it blooms!

Posted by Spurious Nurse at 6/08/2005 08:01:00 PM 10 comments

Dork In An Elevator

It’s funny. Sometimes you have those non-blog-writin’ days. You wrack your brains for something interesting or anecdotal to post, and you come up dry. Then, if you’re like me, after about 10 minutes of blog-guilt, something shiny comes along and distracts you, and you forget all about it.

When Mateo called me for lunch today, I had passed the blog-guilt stage. All I had on my mind was a good dose of lunch-with-husband and a couple of bagels for my tummy.

As I entered the elevator, I checked my cell phone, and moved to push the button. Funny. The first floor button was already lit. Great. I can indulge my truly lazy, I-can’t-even-be-bothered-to-push-an-elevator-button tendencies!

My back was achy, so as the elevator descended, I did my signature spine stretchy/un-kinking move. The one where I flop my arms around, shrug my shoulders, twist my hips in circles and shake my butt all at once.

You know, the one that makes me look like a first prize winner at a psychiatric ward’s interpretive dance contest.

As the elevator slowed to a stop, one of my shoulder shrugs jiggled my head to the right, and something caught my eye.

An unknown man from my building with a truly huge smile on his face was in the back of the elevator trying sooooo hard not to laugh at me. He had seen the entire spine stretchy/un-kinky dance! I had looked at my phone when I entered the elevator and totally missed him! He was the one that pushed the button so my lazy ass didn’t have to!

“Um…” he said, searching for something that wouldn't make him bust out cackling.

“Oh, wow,” I said blankly. “I’m an ass.”

And then we both just cracked up. Blog post prayers officially answered.
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Random Fruit Fact: The Aronia

“Aronia juice has been increasingly used in the food industry to supply a natural red color in products with poor color stability.”

Maybe it’s like the natural red color I was displaying in the elevator today after being completely embarrassed.... Lordy. Learn more about the Aronia, here.

Posted by Spurious Nurse at 6/07/2005 03:34:00 PM 12 comments

Happy Day!

The peony is blooming!


The sun has come out!


And happy news! Mateo’s got a letter back from an interviewer saying he did great at his interview and is a promising candidate for hire.

Mateo's #1! Mateo's #1!

Mateo, you're a total pimp. Congratulations, Baby!

Posted by Spurious Nurse at 6/06/2005 07:09:00 PM 9 comments

Marco! Lame-Ass Polo!

Yesterday, Mateo and I embarked on a shopping excursion to the Monroeville Mall, in search of work-worthy polo shirts. Since my husband and I are both violently iron-o-phobic, and wearing an NWA t-shirt that says ‘Fuck The Police’ isn’t generally within the dress code limits of most libraries, so Mateo rocks a polo most of the time. Unfortunately, polo shirt shopping is a huge ordeal this year, because Mateo doesn’t fit into any of this years prevailing fashion categories:

OLD GOLFING DUDE POLO’S
Typical shirts in this category are either vaguely transparent (gotta show off wrinkly old man nips), or have scary, wavy, ‘artistic’ patterns on them. Mateo is neither golfing, nor expecting his shirt to be a catalyst for self expression. So this category’s out.

KANYE WEST/B-BOY POLO’S
Wherein a ‘medium’ shirt hangs somewhere around Mateo’s ankles. Meant to be worn with HUGE pants, which safely enable the wearer to parachute out of light aircraft. These shirts need to be so long for purposes of modesty, as giant pants are quite heavy and subsequently expose the ENTIRETY of one’s underwear. Mateo doesn’t ‘do’ really baggy pants, so scratch this one off too.

CLUBBY-CLUBBY METROSEXUAL/RYAN SEACREST POLO’S
With “Modern Fit”!!!!! "Modern Fit" seems to mean "two sizes too small", i.e. hugging every inch of one's manly physique. Not really ‘professional’, per se… These typically come with ruffled fronts, or ruching, or patterns of something stupid - like bagels and cream cheese. Unless you’re Ryan Seacrest, or for some horrific reason want to be LIKE Ryan Seacrest, these shirts aren’t for you. I like these shirts because they allow me to see the outline of Mateo’s sassy self. But Mateo thinks wearing an oddly-patterned Xlarge when you’re really a medium is prettyWACK-ASS, so these are out too.

FRAT BOY ON HIS WAY TO SPRING BREAK IN LAMEASS-VILLE POLO’S
Colors span the complete spectrum of rainbow sherbert/easter egg colors, including an odd preponderance of PINK. Pink has historically shown itself to be a poor color choice for men's clothing, but currently seems to be quite popular. Remember back in the 80s when the pink/Miami Vice shit happened the first time? Dudes who wore pink polo’s accessorized with loafers sans socks, and were all somehow named CHAD. It was a bad scene, and everyone burned the photographic evidence and tried to pretend it never happened. But somehow this year it's OK again. Mateo thinks not. 20 years of pink shirt mocking trumps 1 year of cool-Kanye-West-ing, thank you.

Which leaves us in a quandary. Mateo wants to look professional, but not old, too trendy, pink, or huge. Dear God! Where do we shop?!?!?!?
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Random Fruit Fact: The Goumi

“Pleasantly acid when ripe, they are usually made into pies, preserves etc. Quite fiddly and difficult to pick without breaking the young shoots.”

Nobody likes a fiddly young goumi…Learn more about this fiddly fruit, here.

P.S. Goumi flowers are total hermaphrodites. Scandalous!

Posted by Spurious Nurse at 6/05/2005 09:18:00 PM 14 comments

Insane In The Membrane - Part II

Like an ass, I’m reading several books at the same time. Not at the EXACT same time, Mateo wouldn’t have married me if I had 8 pairs of eyes, but regardless, there's books all over my house. In the bedroom, in the living room, in the dining room…etc.

In addition to the books, Mateo and I have a ridiculous number of magazine subscriptions, which means silly-girl magazines, news-y publications, and science periodicals tossed all over our fire-trap of a living room.

Funny thing is, not so long ago, I couldn’t bring myself to even read the paper. Somewhere in my 2nd year of college (GO BRUINS!!!!), the ‘reading-is-vital’ section of my brain shouted “Fuck you, Pendeja!”, and bailed. There wasn't time to read what I wanted during school (again, fucking Farie Queen’s fault), and when I finally had time after I graduated, My Brain balked at his former duties.

“You’ve been reading everything in sight since you were 4 years old," whined My Brain. "I’m fucking tired now, so kiss my ass. I'm out.” Oh, shit. He was serious.

“What the fuck?” I spluttered, “You’re cutting me off? What am I supposed to do? There’s words everywhere. How am I going to read restaurant menus? What about the billboards on LA’s mean streets? How can I determine the nutritional information on the outside of the pickle jar if you won’t help me?”

“Tough titties. I’m checking out for awhile. Why don’t you go get drunk or something?”

And get drunk I did. While I'm pretty sure I wasn’t an true alcoholic (I never hid booze, lied about drinking or drank by myself...hey, maybe I’m a GROUP alcoholic), I was drunk alot until I got married. I still like being drunk, but about 3 years ago My Brain showed up on the doorstep again...

“Baby, I’m so sorry,” tears rolled down my Brain’s arachnoid membrane, “You’ve gotta take me back…”

“I ain’t got to do a DAMN thing, Brain! There’s nothing but grenadine and cocktail straws in the space you once occupied.” I was pissed so I pulled out the big guns, “And your friend Liver is DEAD. DEAD I TELL YOU!”

“It doesn’t matter,” cried my Brain. “Please baby, we’ve gotta work this out. There’s a scary president in charge of the US, there’s a war on, and you’re gonna be 30...”

“Asshole.”

“I just think it’s time you settle down and actually pay attention to the world around you.”

“Fine, but if you leave again, I’m donating your ass to science.”

And thus, My Brain and I were re-united and we've been reading the backs of pickle jars with relative ease ever since.
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Random Pickle Fact: The Pickle

You know you love pickles. Don't try to front.

"Cucumber pickle factories usually ferment cucumbers in large outdoor vats of salt brine. Surprisingly, these vats have no cover, and are wide open to falling bird droppings, insects, and other airborne objects."

OK. Maybe I need to scale the pickle love back a little bit. Learn lots more about pickles, here.

Posted by Spurious Nurse at 6/03/2005 06:56:00 PM 10 comments

IT Duuuuude, You Scare Me Like The Real Thiiing, And Since You Are The Real Thing, You Scare Me Mooooooore...

We have the shittiest computers in the civilized world at my job. Hell, 3rd-world countries have computers better then I do. We're sporting the technological equivalent of a cardboard box and a stick. Apparently when the hospital says they're "committed to data protection and patient privacy”, they mean serving up Grade ‘A’ techno bullshit to their workers.

To match our crummy computers, we have a crummy IT guy. He’s bad at his job, he’s self-righteous about EVERY thing, and he has several disturbing nervous tics. He’s also just nasty. You know, one of those dudes who don’t bathe or wash any clothes until his funk flows behind him in a nauseating wake. The kind of fella that’s balding but still grows his greasy, dandruff-encrusted hair halfway down his back.

All this, and he’s a chatty little fucker, too.

Usually if I don’t make any noise or sudden movements, he’ll leave me alone. A useful skill, considering that today I was informed about our janky IT Dudes plans for total chick domination by a co-worker. Apparently, our talentless computer hack has decided to chat up ALL the women in my building (married/divorced/single- anything without a scrotum, really) in the hopes that one day he'll get some boo-tay and marry one of us.

After I finished my requisite bout of dry-heaves, I started wondering about the nature of our digital-slimeball. Maybe he just doesn't know that he's gross. Perhaps he's just a disgusting ship floating in a sea of ignorance. A sea of stinky ignorance. So for educational purposes (and to distract myself from the horrifying thought of my delicate ass being in his clutches), I’ve made a helpful list for nasty IT Dudes.

For all you IT boys looking for boo-tay at work, here’s some ideas to improve your chances with the ladeeez.

The Basics:

Hair
If you’re balding and have long hair, CUT THAT FUCKING SHIT OFF! Overcompensation in one follicular area does NOT make up for your losses in another. If you don’t know which style suits you, just shave it ALL off. And then, for the love of Christ, maintain it. Nobody wants to see little tufts of hair twirled into mini-palm trees sticking out all over your head.

Bathing
Bathe, dammit. Use soap. Use it thoroughly in all your cracks and crevices. USE IT EVERY DAY.

Clothing
Wash your clothing. I’m not going to harp on stylistic points. Just make sure it’s clean, smells good and doesn’t have holes or stains. Also, you’re not Neo from The Matrix, so ease up off the giant trench.

Facial Hair
My own personal jury’s still out on facial hair, but if you decide to partake, MAINTAIN that shit! You wanna have a goatee, have a goatee, and cut that shit DAILY. Don’t let it get Rumplestiltskin scraggly for a month, and expect me to swoon.

Extras
Trim things that need to be trimmed. Nails, nose/ear/eyebrow hair, etc. If you’ve got chest/back hair spilling out of the top of your shirt, you may want to consider dealing with that a little. Pits and pubes are your own business. You want junk that looks like you stapled a tumbleweed to your ballsack? Fine with me, just don’t make me look at it, I’ll go blind. Important: Don’t trim ANYTHING at work.

Extra Credit:

-No stalking.
-I mean it, no stalking. That shit’s only cool in John Hughes movies when it’s reciprocated.
-No discussion of your 3000 tape anal porn collection.
-No pets in your pockets (reptiles, rodents, imaginary friends etc.)

Anything I missed?
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Random Fruit Fact: Don’t Feel Like It Today. Sorry. All that talk about crusty dandruff bugged me out.

As for Self Portrait Day's transportation theme, I've got this:


That's right, bitches. I've got your snack right freakin' here.

Posted by Spurious Nurse at 6/02/2005 07:31:00 PM 14 comments

The Waaaaaaaiting Is The Hardest Part

I hate waiting. Someone once told me the average amount of time spent waiting in the a human life, and though I don’t remember the exact figure, I remember being APPALLED.

Mateo and I are currently on Librarian Job Watch 2005. Though I’m completely confident Mateo can get a library job in California, it would be nice to know where that job will be. Unfortunately, since he’s applying for reference librarian jobs in the public sector, most of his potential job offers must come from various city governments.

City government = Bureaucracy. And because the crappy bureaucratic powers-that-be take a long time to get of their asses and do ANY DAMN THING, Mateo and I have to twiddle our thumbs. And wait.

We’ve got 15 reeeeeallly slow irons in the application fire, all of which come with their own plodding peculiarities:

-2 weeks for interview testing results.
-15 days to get approval for more interviews.
-1 month until the end of a hiring freeze.
-10 days to mail us an official application AFTER we send them a SASE.

Grab a map of the US and check out California. It’s that big thing next to Mexico on the west coast. No, not Texas. Further to your left. Wow, it’s kinda LARGE, no? The Spurious household can’t search for a place to live, sign up for nursing school or make moving arrangements until someone recognizes Mateo’s superior reference skills and gives him the job he so rightly deserves.

Hence the waiting. And I hate waiting.
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Random Fruit Fact: The Quince

“Quince has golden skin and looks like a combination of apple and pear. When ripe, it smells like perfume. But the flavor is tart, and it is always cooked before eating. Quince is very popular in jams and jellies. If you want to try one, you may have to wait. They are only available from October through December.”

Dammit, I even have to wait to try a quince?!?!? I HATE WAITING. Learn more about the quince’s pokey ass, here.

Posted by Spurious Nurse at 6/01/2005 10:32:00 AM 17 comments